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High Seas
Part 1 “Are ye’ a blasted idiot, son?” The table erupted in laughter, except for one unfortunate young man. “I’s no idiot!” His red face matched the red bandana upon his head. “How’s I supposed to know the man already dead?” Another round of laughter swirled the table as men touched cups and drank to the boy’s vigor. He sank back into his chair as a barrel-chested man began to speak. “You were the one who done broke his neck in the first place.” He shot the boy a sly grin. “So, we find the lad here heavin’ and hoin’ on his broad sword, as usual, ''that is now stuck through the bed.” He imitated the great struggle it must have been, and the laughter continued. “An’ he’s tryin’ with all the strength he’s got till it finally frees from the wood an’ out of the dead man he already killed-“ The boy broke in, “He just looked like he’s sleeping! How’s I to know you lot dressed him up in bed?” Barrel Chest ignored him and continued, “Well, with his heavin’ and our laughin’ we must of alarmed some of the crew upstairs. Shanks saw ‘em first.” He motioned to a thin man with thin brown hair; his voice rasped heavy as he spoke. “Oh aye, we alarmed ‘em alright. Half dozen armed men an’ a dog came rushing downstairs to see us collapse on the floor, stitched with laughter.” He gave a surprised look, “I musta’ been as white as snow once I stopped laughin’ but I had sense enough to shake Willem.” “So, we stand up; afraid to draw and even more scared t’ run.” Barrel-Chested Willem continued the story. “I see the look an’ I know we’s about to be had.” He reached over to the red bandana youngster and shook his shoulder with a grin. “Until this mad bastard come whirling round the bend, covered in blood, screaming and flailing that great sword. Three o’ them fuckers took off for top deck at the sight.” He laughed a deep, hearty laugh as Shanks placed his hand on the boy’s other shoulder. “Crazy fuck swung that sword right into the dog’s head; bitch went out with not so much as a yelp.” The boy, if possible, was redder than he had been before and the men around the table were praising his dog killing skills. “Now fellas,” Willem raised his hand to calm them, “Turns out, laddie here killed the captain’s bitch. An’ these men really liked that dog; I’ let ya’ guess why that is.” He insinuated the worst with a chuckle. “The rest o’ them three started to weep like maidens over this dog, so we slay ‘em where they wept. Well, Shanks and me; the boy here was too tired after killin’ a dog an’ another man twice.” The laughter was overwhelming and even red-face was joining in with some nervous chuckling. A burst of sunlight came from the door atop the stairs. A hasty shout followed quickly after. “Oiy! Get up here dammit! Hangman’s caught himself a Marshal!” The table clear in a rush of spilled drinks and plates; dice and cups flew across the room and the men were up and out before the die had struck the ground. Part 2 His unblinking eyes followed the coin as it fell into the chest and down the well. “Tis a proper way a’ becomin’ a man.” With a calloused hand he gripped Eve’s shoulder. The boy looked up with hope. Looked with hope to see his lineage, to see into the eyes of the man who brought him life. But the face was blurry and unfocused, a misty mess of a figure. “Pa-Papa?” The blurry figure’s face became even more distorted and it laughed an evil chuckle. When it spoke, the words were muffled like it was speaking from far away. “Pa?” It questioned before darkening its face and drew its distorted eyes close to Eve. “I ain’ yer Pa, boy.” Everything was silent and then the words were as clear as day. “You have no father.” Its breath was cold upon his face. Eve awoke with a startle and a shot of pain ran through his arm. The room was dark, and the window was open, allowing the cold night air to blow in. He grabbed a bottle with his good hand and took a hefty swig. The dark room soon drifted away, and he fell into an uneasy rest until morning. Horace was in his room, earlier than usual, to brief Eve on the Marshal movements against the Pirates or ''rebel dogs as he had come to call them.'' Pompous ass. Knows nothin’ ‘bout pirates. Eve was sitting down for a break from drinking his bottle of Whither Rum to drink a cup of coffee with a book as Horace came in. “Good morning Marshal.” He did not salute, and at least for that, Eve was thankful, he had little desire to salute to anything lately. “Marshal Bell.” He lifted his cup in a slight nod of hello then returned to the book upon the table. “You seem in the usual spirit.” Horace remarked, looking around Eve’s chambers with a look of discomfort. “It shall truly service the both of us then that I will be departing Ýgrisil soon.” Eve closed the book with his bad arm, the pain felt good this time and he flexed his fingers to stretch out the stiffness in his forearm. “I have better things to do Bell.” Eve grabbed his rum and splashed a healthy serving in his coffee. “Why do you insist on bothering me today?” Horace postured himself against the wall, one hand on the table, so he could look down at Eve as he sat. “I had only thought you would like to know I will be departing this very afternoon.” His smile was rife with confidence. “I have three carracks ready to sail from Ýgrisil, at my command.” Ya’ noble cunt. ''Eve took a hard swig from his bottle. “You don’ call em carracks. Ships have names, jus’ like people.” He snatched up the mug of coffee/rum and shifted in his seat. Horace continued talking as if he did not notice. “We are well provisioned and my recruit, Jon, has already made contact with a reliable source and set up a base of operations. I feel truly ready for the task of leading alongside the Imperious in our conquest of those ''rebel dogs” ''His last words echoed with malice. He pushed from the wall to stand next to Eve. “I trust you will be alright here with the recruits?” “Listen here, Whore-ass, I don’ need y-“ Eve cut himself short as Contra entered the room. She quickly (and unknowingly) defused the tension with a, “Good morning gentlemen.” She floated in swiftly and Eve could not help but stand to greet her. “Ah! Good Morning sister!” Horace turned to her and they exchanged a playful salute to each other. “I trust your trip home was well?” “Indeed, it was. I have a gift for you later from mother.” The two laughed a familial giggle and began a conversation about their mother and her affinity for gifts. Contra was as chipper as Horace, but Eve found her to be slightly less obnoxious about their family name and much easier on the eyes than most high-born girls he knew. Even so, he was in no mood to converse with either today. “Fuckin Lick-Spittlers.” He broke into their conversation. “What God shit in my chambers today to allow a Bell family reunion in it?” He rose, nearly throwing his seat over and pushed between them to head to his wardrobe. Contra spoke first, her voice soft, vibrating with worry and hurt. “I apologize Eve. We meant no disrespect.” Eve continued to rummage through his clothes, throwing them to the side and back toward the Bell siblings. “You could show some respect Seadog; we are your superiors.” Horace scolded but Contra placed a hand on his shoulder and eased him back. Eve held his tongue and kept his hand from his dagger. He grabbed a large chest and pulled it out with some force, breaking the wardrobe door slightly and sending another burst of fire through his arm. Contra stepped closer. “Would you like to hear about Friss?” Eve waited a moment on one knee with his hands on the heavy lid. “Well?” He questioned, looking over his shoulder after a long silence. “She is doing well, looks like she is passed the worst of her injuries; She is a strong girl.” “Oh course she is. I picked her didn’ I?” He said with a snap, turning back to the chest to throw off the lock. He thought back to their escape from the woods and shivered. ''Stay awake girl! Bastards are better; we earned our lives! Gods dammit, stay with me! He pulled an old coat from the trunk and shook it loose from its folds. It resembled something an Arnish Noble might have worn, near a hundred years ago, and it had seen many modifications and re-stitching. For a moment he admired the long unseen blue hue and the faded, mismatched brass buttons. He threw the jacket on and his arm burst with pain, but he did not care anymore. “Please Eve, there is no reason to be upset.” Contra stepped closer again, now within arm’s reach. “We are all on the same side here.” Eve threw a scabbard belt over his shoulder, accompanied with a cutlass, and finished by tying a worn bandana around his head. “An’ what side is that?” He pushed past them, grabbing his bottle and heading for the door. “Fuck you, Bells.” “Eve wait-“ Contra yelled but he did not slow his pace. The two Marshals were left in Eve’s room awe struck and littered with questions. Eve’s blood-soaked Marshal’s cloak lay unwashed in a bundled mess by the door. Part 3 The noose was tight around his neck and the rope hung loosely draped over his shoulder. He dared not move for fear of falling off the barrel he stood upon. His bare feet gripped the wooden lid as the ship swayed with the tides, and he felt the lid shift with each distribution of weight. “Tough in’it?” A voice in the dark said with a chuckle. “Whose there?” Jon flinched and squinted his eyes to scan the dark room. A tinder-stick flared in the corner to illuminate a grizzled man. He lit an oversized pipe and blew puffs of smoke to cloud his head. The fire flickered through the smoke and strained Jon’s eyes. “I know ye’ must be hurtin’ to sit by now.” The voice mocked from behind the smoke. “Please let me go!” Jon squealed in a panic. “I promise I will just go home.” The mystery man took a long drag from his pipe and blew a large cloud toward Jon’s face. The smoke made his eyes water and he struggled to keep them open. The crackle of tobacco rose from in front of him and a sudden blast of smoke forced him to shut his eyes. “You only been here a day or so…” A hand forcefully grabbed the rope around Jon’s neck. As he painfully opened his eyes the grizzled man was face to face with him, so close he could smell the man’s putrid breath. “Ponder bein’ strung up like this,” He played with the rope on Jon’s shoulder with his thumb. “hanging from a tree, wit’ no more ‘an a little stump to balance on.” He pulled Jon forward causing him to lose his footing. The man caught him with the other hand, digging the pipe into his side, and held him eye to eye. “An’ I did it for days…” He threw Jon back who struggled to maintain his balance. Walking back to the wall the man taunted further. “So. I have no problem leavin’ ye’ t’ hang for as long as it takes.” Jon began to tremble, and he felt his garments quickly thickening with sweat. “Wha-“ He paused. “Come on boy!” The man yelled from the side of his pipe as he lit it again. “What do you want from me?” He felt the sting of sweat in the fresh scratches on his neck. “Tha’ be the right question t’ be askin’.” He gave the wall a hard boot and the door burst open. Three men with bows rushed the room, arrows nocked. “Ready an’ fire lads.” The soldiers drew their bows and aimed at Jon. “Wait NOOO!” Jon screamed, closing his eyes as the arrows loosed. A moment later he opened his eyes, surprised to still be breathing. He took a fright to find the man again eye to eye. “Now I told ye’. I will leave ye’ hang, as long as it takes.” The man knelt to the bucket. It was then Jon noticed where the arrows had landed. With a swift snatch the man pulled an arrow from the bucket releasing a small flow of sand onto the floor. “An’ right now, that looks to be about four hours.” Jon struggled to hide his fear, but he began to cry slightly. “Please I will tell you anything.” He shook his head back and forth and began to cry more. “Wh-what do you want to know?!” “How does it feel?” The man plucked another arrow releasing another stream of sand. “The burn of the rope; that tight grip of fear.” Jon was in shock, he felt a weakness in his knees, but he stopped from falling and chocked down his tears. “You are a madman! I have already agreed to tell you anything!” He rose up to Jon’s face again. “An' I told you. I would keep you here. As long as it takes.” He kicked the last arrow from the bucket. “An’ now that looks to be about an hour.” The men behind him chucked. “I-I..” The realization of his situation flowed over him and Jon began to cry again. “Give ye’ some time to think out ye’ life; ‘memberin’ all the twists and turns you took only t’ learn that they lead ye’ here.” The man threw one last insult as he ushered the others out and left the room. “Enjoy the sunrise. Marshal.” The pirates mockingly left the door open. Jon looked out through watery eyes to the purple, red sky of early day’s light. His bare feet felt the slow decent of the lid and he felt the warm stream of urine down his leg. Category:Character lore